While The Billy BoilsSearchSix off, and still unbroken —No fretting bridle bar,No spur has left its token,No girth has left its scar.
Free as the wind that followsIts own unfettered will;Free as the wheeling swallows,He rests or revels still.
The Bush is stall and manger,His grooms are wind and sun;Dusk chieftain, pallid stranger,He payeth toll to none.
The Bush is stall and manger,He snorts and stands aloof,And flouts the face of dangerWith rout of ringing hoof.
Heads low his comrades waddleIn weary bonds of draught,Galled withers ’neath the saddle,Galled ribs against the shaft.
Where jocund kookaburrasMake merry on the bough,Above the long brown furrowsHis playmates pull the plough.
On dusty road and dreary,On broken bridle track,They wander far and weary,And weary wander back.
Nor one demands his leisureFrom burden or from chain,But waits his master’s pleasureTo take the track again.
And only he runs idleIn pasture lands of Fate,Unvexed of bit or bridleOr reckless rider’s weight.
Runs idle — who shall blame him? —He flings the gauntlet down,The man that dares to tame himShall take him back to town.
Meet trophy he for vauntingAs prize of errant knight,Where Fashion’s flowers are flauntingAnd Beauty’s eyes are bright.
What lord of lines shall quarrelWith symmetry superb,Strong quarter, mighty barrel,Proud crest that shames the curb:
Clean pastern, sinewy shoulder,Broad chest where boundeth hardA fiercer heart and bolderThan fear of men shall yard!
Vaunt not your pampered stallions,The slaves of man’s decree,Base helots they, and hallions,Nor peer for such as he.
The sprites of earth and ocean,The war of wind and flood,Old Freedom’s rebel potion,Run riot in his blood;
Bold outlaw, reckless liver,But by that dainty treadAnd that red nostril’s quiverYe know him thoroughbred.
Six off, and still unbroken,No saddle mark shall stainThat satin coat for tokenOf masterdom’s domain.
Dream not, your bondage leadenThat flashing eye shall blur,Nor dream those flanks shall reddenAnd reek beneath the spur.
A monarch of the ranges,A sultan of the plains,A spirit that estrangesFell Fear from his domains.
Free as the wind that followsIts own unfettered will,Free as the wheeling swallows,He rests or revels still.